


Right Under My Heart

by InjaMorgan



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, Pregnancy, also kinda a BotFA fix-it although it doesn't take place in THIS fic, also: Fluff. Fluffety-fluff, but because I can't do without it: Angst, hey it's a Dwobbit pregnancy there are going to be difficult times!, later: Dwobbits!, or rather: if Billa and Thorin feel like it, please don't hate me for the OC Dwarves, technically AU, there also might be some hetero sex later if I feel like it, there might be some gore during the birth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:04:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InjaMorgan/pseuds/InjaMorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking place in Blue_Sparkle's <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/698417/chapters/1285776">To Make a Crown</a> universe, Or: How I Managed To Write A Sequel Before The First Part Is Even Finished.</p><p>A year after the BotFA, Billa is a rather happy Queen, ruling alongside her beloved husband Thorin, and everything is basically glitter and rainbows, except one day, she's waking up and feels like emptying her stomach on the carpet next to her bed. You can imagine how this is going to continue, can't you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears and Talks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Sparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/gifts).



> *throws the chapter at you* Go, read it. I can't promise steady updates, or that this story will even exist tomorrow if I don't feel like it gets enough attention. My stories are my babies, and if they're ignored by everyone, I'm going to take them back into my home and will never ever let them out again.
> 
> Harumph, Inja has spoken.

Pregnancy was always something special, be it Hobbit or Dwarf, the development of a new life was seen as a miracle and as something to be treasured. In her time back in Hobbiton, Billa had seen many Hobbit pregnancies (some families seemed to be as fast at reproducing as the rabbits that lived under their Smials), with the mothers always smiling and almost radiating their happiness about the child in their belly, and the fathers close by, keeping a watchful eye on every movement of their wife. At some point in her life Billa had actually wished to be like them, but in the end she loved her books more than she could love any Hobbit in the whole Shire, and had wholly accepted to end up as a spinster that Hobbit tweens would tell creepy stories about.

However, Billa could not foresee the quest and Thorin and the Battle of Five Armies and it was shortly before her first birthday spent in Erebor that Billa noticed a certain queasiness in her tummy in the morning, and when she tried to count the weeks since her last Moonblood she felt even more like emptying her stomach contents into the closest bowl. Of course she knew that lying with a male could end up with her pregnant, though she was a bit surprised that it happened so soon … but then she had maybe forgotten the fertility of Hobbit wombs and underestimated the strength of Dwarven seed. She had sat down in a quiet corner of her chambers, first crying, then slowly understanding that yes, there was a small heart fluttering just under her own heart, and after a while she stood up and stepped out into the corridor, from head to toe looking like a proper Queen of Erebor.

Telling Thorin, however, was a completely different thing. She approached him right after he had held Counsel for the citizens of Erebor, smiling as Thorin hugged her close to his chest as soon as most of the other dwarves had left the room.

“I missed you, my little gem,” he said with a broad grin on his lips, and for a split second Billa wavered in her plans to tell him right then and there, as she dreaded Thorin's reaction. On the one hand, she knew that children were highly valued and loved in the Dwarven society, on the other hand she didn't know if Thorin truly saw her as a worthy consort for him, even if they had been officially bonded for far more than nine months now. It was not uncommon for Dwarves to take a mistress, especially if it meant that the children were of truly royal blood and not … well, mixed races.

In the end, her Took side won the argument.

“Thorin, I'm pregnant.”

The silence around them was encompassing, and Thorin looked down on Billa for a very long moment before he found his voice again. He gripped her shoulders tight and stared into her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Billa nodded, suddenly blushing. “I haven't talked to any healer yet, but I can recognise the signs and–”

Thorin's lips on hers surprised her thoroughly. Billa tried to respond with equal fervour, but couldn't stop the stifled squeak as Thorin grabbed her around her waist and lifted her off her feet.

“My wonderful-” A fluttering kiss on Billa's cheek. “Wonderful Hobbit.” Thorin pressed another kiss on Billa's neck, and she couldn't stop the giggle when his braided beard tickled the skin of her cleavage. “You're a miracle, Billa Baggins, and I love you.”

Another kiss on her lips, this time gentler and more careful, but not lacking the emotions Thorin seemed to pour in every kiss he gave his beloved Hobbit. Billa couldn't stop the tears flowing down her cheeks, and when Thorin had put her down and looked at her again, he frowned deeply.

“Sweet Billa, why the tears? Are you not happy?”

“But yes, yes I am happy!” Billa wrapped her arms again around Thorin, burying her face in his chest and breathing in his musky scent. “I just...” She turned her head to the side so Thorin could actually hear what she said. “I just didn't know if you would approve–”

“Not approve of my own child? Billa, do you think me a mindless Orc? How could I not love an infant created by us, and us alone?” He pulled her gently away from his chest so he could put a soft kiss on her forehead. “I took you as my consort, as my wife, and no matter if you are a Hobbit or a Dwarf, every child with my blood in its veins has the right to live and be my heir.”

This confession made the tears in Billa's eyes well up again, but Thorin merely brushed over the wet streaks on her cheeks with his rough thumbs.

“I love you, Billa, please never doubt this again,” Thorin said in a low voice, and Billa managed to smile despite her tears.

“I love you too.”

~*~

Genra was one of the Dwarves that had arrived soon after the Battle of the Five Armies, as every hand was needed to treat the injured warriors that lay in tents at the base of Erebor, and even the youngest of the healers of the Iron Hills were called for help. Later Dáin left it up to every dwarf to decide if they wanted to return to their home or stay in the Lonely Mountain and aid Thorin in his task to make it habitable again. As Genra had only some distant cousins back in the Iron Hills she stayed, and was now very happy to learn from Óin, who had become the leading healer of Erebor, even if he sometimes needed help from Genra if he couldn't understand what a patient was saying.

Luckily now, almost a full year after the great battle against the Orcs and Wargs, the life of the healers had slowed down. The caravans from the other parts of Middle-Earth had brought many families back to Erebor, and with them mostly running noses, sprained ankles and every now and then even a broken arm when someone fell down the steps, or Mahal forbid, a pit in the mines deep in the bowels of the mountain that the dwarves had been eager to re-open.

One of these cases was lying on a cot in the small infirmary right now, and Genra could only shake her head about so much foolishness. How could someone even be so stupid to take one of the old and mostly fragile and brittle ladders down to reach a peculiar shiny gem? He was rather lucky that he'd only broken his leg and cracked his head a bit on the stony ground. Petting the patient's hand, she checked off some things on a roll of parchment in her hands, and was about to go into the tiny room right next to the infirmary which she and Óin used as a break room (and to take a nap if there was a patient that needed constant surveillance), as the door to the infirmary sprung open and a dark haired dwarf entered, obviously only just controlling his … fear, anger, excitement?

Genra needed a few seconds, but then she realized that the dwarf who was marching straight up to her was indeed Thorin Oakenshield.

“My king,” she said, bowing deeply, a little surprised about the unannounced visit, but then she was far better at controlling her emotions than the King Under the Mountain.

“Healer, you are just the one I hoped to find,” said Thorin, and as Genra peered upwards a little, she saw him nod curtly, her sign to raise a little, but keeping her head nevertheless lowered, as it was not allowed for subjects to look the king into his eyes.

“My lord, it would be an honour for me to help you if you're injured or ill, although I have to say that it's evident that it's not for yourself that you've come here to ask me for a cure, as I can see that you're in rather good health.”

“Yes, you are right, although...” Thorin seemed to be lost for words for a short moment, but then fell into a whisper as if he didn't trust the only patient in the infirmary to be actually asleep. “I'd rather take this conversation somewhere more private, if it's possible.”

“Of course, my King.” Genra did a curtsey, turned around and led her king towards the break room; outwards she might have looked composed and professional as always, but inside she was giggling like a lovesick Dwarven lass, wondering why in the name of the Maker the king wanted to talk to her, and her alone. The first time she had seen him he had still been unable to move and was largely covered in bandages, but Thorin Oakenshield was nevertheless a very handsome dwarf. Later Genra had learnt that he was about to wed the young hobbit lady that had helped their people to reclaim the mountain, which saddened Genra a little, though the small crush on her king had remained. But then, wasn't there a saying that a good subject should love their king like a spouse?

“Would you like a cup of tea, my lord?” Genra closed the door as soon as Thorin had entered the narrow room, turning around to look at her king. “I can't offer you anything to eat, but I'm told that I make a rather good brew of passionflower and balm; it might soothe your nerves.”

Thorin looked a little surprised at her assessment of his mental state. “Is it that obvious?” he asked, and Genra nodded.

“My lord, you storm into my infirmary like a swarm of bees is behind you, and then ask me for a private conversation where nobody can overhear us; for me it is like it's written down on your face.” She handed him a mug of sweet-smelling tea, and he nipped at it carefully before sitting down at the small table in a corner of the break room, Genra following him quickly.

“This tastes far better than the last brews you fed me,” Thorin said, gracing her with a small smile. Genra couldn't stop blushing under her cropped, auburn beard.

“That was medicine, my king, and it's a common notion that medicine has to taste nasty to actually work.”

“And indeed it worked,” he replied, rubbing across his chest with his free hand, and Genra was at once back in the state of mind of a healer.

“Does it still pain you, my lord? I've got a good salve that helps with the feeling of tension in scar–”

“No, no, I am really feeling all right.” Thorin shook his head and nipped at his tea before he spoke again. “I come to you, not because I need your knowledge as a surgeon … but your, ah, other profession.”

For a short moment, Genra was absolutely flustered and confused; what did her king mean? She was trained as a common healer, and as most female healers she was also a qualified midwife and...

Oh. She found her voice again, even if it was a bit squeaky.

“You mean that the queen–”

“Not so loud!” Thorin interrupted her, and Genra closed her mouth instinctively. “But yes, or at least she thinks so, though you have to come with me so you can have a look at her properly.”

Genra put down her tea, leaned across the table a little and whispered: “Why did she not come down herself?”

“She felt sick to the stomach again and didn't dare to walk across half of Erebor without attracting suspicion in the subjects' hearts,” Thorin sighed.

“The Queen doesn't want anybody to know?” Now Genra was worried. Being pregnant shouldn't be kept a secret, it was a time of celebration and joy, not a contagious disease that was to be locked away behind closed doors.

“Yes, and no, and–“ Thorin sighed, again, finishing his tea. “It's rather complicated, I believe.” He looked to the side, and Genra noticed the deep lines of worry and sorrow that her King could hide so well when he was his angry or very much majestic self, but now she could see the utter fear in his eyes.

“My lord, it may not be my place to ask, but could it be that there is a history of miscarriages in your family?” It was not a very far-fetched idea, as Dwarves had always had problems to procreate as they had so few females, but additional to that some families seemed to be cursed with some kind of poison in the womb that seemed to kill the children before they could breathe on their own.

Thorin merely stared at Genra, who didn't even flinch, only averted her eyes to look at her hands clasped around the tea mug intently. Her mother had always told her that one day her boldness would be her death.

“So you're not only a healer, but a mind-reader as well?” Thorin asked in the end, and Genra released a breath she didn't know she had been holding.

“No, my lord, I can only read … people rather well, as it is my duty to tell apart someone who only wants my attention to chase away the boredom or someone who truly needs my help,” Genra answered truthfully, and glimpsed upwards, only to see that now even more deep worry lines were visible on Thorin's face, and then a small nod from the king.

“We assume that it was my grandmother that brought it into our family,” he spoke slowly, as if he had a hard time finding the right words. “My grandfather had two brothers, and even three sisters, but then my father was the only child that lived to see maturity, and … I was not the first child in my mother's womb, but the Maker decided to take my brother before he was even born.”

Thorin paused, seemingly lost to his thoughts, and Genra felt close to tears at this point. Like every other Dwarven lass she'd had to learn the family tree of Durin by heart when she'd been younger, but she'd never imagined that the drop in birth rates in Thorin's familial line was due to such a tragedy, thought up by the Maker Himself. She was about to speak as Thorin suddenly completed his tale in a low and gravely voice.

“And my nephew, brave Kíli, would have been born far too early if Óin hadn't found the right herbs to stop the labour pain and confined Dís to bed for the last months of pregnancy.”

So this was what the King feared, and maybe the Queen shared his concerns, but probably because of different reasons. Genra had heard of children born to couples of mixed races; one of the favourite tales of the Elves' was, after all, the story of the human Beren and the elf Lúthien, who had fallen in love and had rather famous offspring. And especially back in the golden days of Erebor there had been many children of Men and Dwarves, often born to human wenches that the male dwarves liked to … frequent. But never had Genra heard about a child of a Hobbit and a Dwarf.

However, Genra had never heard anything about Hobbits at all before she came to Erebor after the Battle of the Five Armies, and this thought gave her hope. Hobbits seemed to be sturdy and brave, and even though she didn't have the chance yet to come to know Billa Baggins better, she trusted her king's decision to take a tough Hobbit as his wife.

“My lord,” Genra thus spoke after a short pause to not rip her master out of his thoughts, but Thorin still seemed to be startled at her voice, looking at the healer with glassy eyes. Genra gulped, and started anew.

“My lord, I understand your fear, yet I don't believe there is no hope at all.” She tried to smile, and in a fit of madness, grabbed for the kings hands, holding them tightly. The king needed reassurance, and Genra had learnt early in her training that body contact was the best way to mediate strength and confidence. Even if it meant to touch the king without previous permission.

“Your queen is a strong hobbit, Thorin Oakenshield, and I believe– no, I _know_ that she will grant you this wish of a living child, and I will do everything in my power to aid her in this task.”

Another moment passed, the king's fingers limp under Genra's hands, but then a tentative twitch, and suddenly Thorin squeezed back.

“Thank you, healer, I … think I needed those clear words.”

“You're very welcome, my lord. And now I'll get the bag with my supplies and I'll have a look at your wife.” Genra stood up, however, Thorin did not let go of her hands.

“I have seen you so many times, back when you treated my wounds, and then later when I asked Óin about certain things, yet I never asked you for your name,” said Thorin in a low voice, still staring at their joined hands. Genra sighed, and she knew that in another life, there might have been a slight possibility of Thorin Oakenshield falling in love with a simple healer from the Iron Hills.

“Genra, my lord. My name is Genra.”


	2. A Small Fluttering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I lost my muse halfway along the way, and then had some serious issues with the whole "plot", but well, I'm back on the track! A part of chapter 3 is actually already written, so I do hope this won't take as long ... but I can't promise anything *sigh*

Some dozen yards above the infirmary, Billa was trying frantically to concentrate on her exercises in Khuzdul grammar and pronunciation to take her mind off the things happening right now, and the visitor she would have rather soon.

It had been a lengthy discussion between Thorin, Balin and some other dwarven lords that held positions in Thorin's council if Billa, as a non-dwarf yet the king's legally wed consort, was allowed to learn the secret tongue of the Dwarves. The very old and sacred laws of the forefathers stated that no foreigners should even hear a word of Khuzdul or, Mahal forbid, read one of the books written in it, however, Billa as their Queen was supposed to understand her subjects' concerns and problems, and a vital part to understand dwarven culture was to understand their language. Hence Billa had been permitted to learn how to speak and write Khuzdul, but only after swearing never to teach it to another Hobbit, Men, or even Elf.

And because Thorin was a very thoughtful husband, he saw it as a necessity to step in as Billa's tutor, but already after a few days both of them realised that Thorin neither had enough patience nor indulgence to be a good teacher (especially after realising that it was hard work to mediate how to pronounce certain harsh Khuzdul sounds to someone who was used to speaking a soft and rounded language like Westron), and Billa decided to ask Balin, as he was indeed a dwarf with much wisdom and knowledge. He agreed to meet with her twice every week, giving her easy books to read and some exercises to practise her writing, which still often looked like a chicken had dipped its feet into the ink and run across the pages.

But right now … right now Billa couldn't even remember how to write Thorin's true name, or her own for that matter, as she'd noticed again and again that her left hand didn't want to stay on the desk but wandered to her belly, absently stroking across the fabric covering the skin there. The queasiness had vanished slightly, although even the idea of food made her retch, and the curious thought that there was now another small life growing inside her … it was all very odd. She just hoped that the midwife Thorin had talked about was indeed as good as he claimed. Billa liked and trusted Óin, really, and she'd seen with her own eyes how good he was in the arts of healing, but she had also the feeling that a pregnancy was something that should be dealt by … women, and women alone.

Another attempt at writing a few sentences in Khuzdul was quickly abandoned when Billa felt a wave of dizziness and had the desire to lie down, which she quickly did because she feared either a new wave of nausea, or even collapsing in the middle of their sitting room. The couch was indeed very comfortable, and as Billa stared at the finely carved stone ceiling of the chambers, her hands found their way to her belly anew. She imagined how it would be in a few months, when her stomach had grown and rounded, and she would feel the movements of the babe and...

Good gods. She was crying, wasn't she? Those traitorous tears. A queen wasn't allowed to cry, she needed to be a good example, strong and unrelenting and...

She couldn't stop crying. And it just happened that in this moment the door to the lounge opened and Thorin entered the room, panicking as he saw his wife crying into her hands and hurrying to her side, gripping her shoulders and trying to look at her face.

“Billa, my queen, are you all right? Has something happened? Are you in pain?” Thorin's words came out in one single rush, but the only thing the hobbit in front of him did was shake her head, looking at her husband with red-rimmed eyes.

“Billa, please, speak with me. The last time I saw you crying like this was when you heard about Kíli's leg and...”

“No, my king,” Billa interrupted Thorin before he could remind her of that dreadful day. “I was thinking about the future, which makes me so very happy but also very … frightened, I think.” She wiped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve and attempted a smile. “I'm fine, Thorin, believe me.”

The dwarf couldn't stop himself and hugged Billa to his chest. “Do not frighten me like this again, I fear that next time my heart will indeed jump out of my chest,” he murmured into the hobbit's shoulder, before he pulled her into a small kiss … and then remembered that he hadn't come alone to their chambers, but brought a certain important visitor with him. After letting Billa go, Thorin turned towards the door where Genra was still standing, clearly uncomfortable about the display of affection between her king and queen right in front of her.

“My beloved Billa, meet Genra, healer and midwife,” Thorin spoke, and Genra did a curtsey, clutching her bag tightly. Billa looked at her, and the last traces of tears quickly vanished from her cheeks as she smiled at the female dwarf.

“I remember you from the battlefield. You helped Óin with changing Thorin's and the boys' bandages.”

“This I did, milady.” Genra did another curtsey, making a step into the room and quickly closing the door behind her, understanding that any kind of conversation was to be taken as permission to enter the chambers. 

“I always thought you had left and went back to the Iron Hills like the other dwarves,” Billa mused, then looking at Thorin who was still standing next to the couch. “This is what I meant about not knowing my subjects, dear husband. I didn't even know we had more than one healer!”

Thorin merely sighed, ignoring the daggers in his wife's gaze. “Billa, it's just impossible to know every single Dwarf living in and around Erebor by name and history of their family.”

“Well, not for a Hobbit; we grow up learning who is related to whom and who lives next door that could help with the tomato harvest. Isn't it our duty to know of our subject's desires and wishes? How can I know about that if I don't even know that they exist?” Billa stood up, walking over to the desk where she had worked earlier and grabbing a piece of parchment. “We need to make a census of population, preferably including–” Billa interrupted herself, quickly sitting down on the chair next to the desk. Again Thorin wore a very worried face as he rushed towards her, but Billa stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“Moved too quickly, nothing else. My stomach doesn't like to be agitated, I think.”

“That's exactly why I brought a healer,” stated Thorin, pressing a small kiss to the hobbit's forehead as he slowly led her back to the couch. “I want you to have a good look at her, and maybe you could find a tea or tincture that helps with the nausea,” he told Genra, who curtseyed a third time.

“Yes milord.” Genra moved towards the couch, before turning around to face Thorin again. “Milord, do you want to stay for the examination or rather leave?”

There was a short exchange of glances between king and queen, that Genra recognised as the form of conversing which took place between people who knew each other so well that they didn't even need words for certain topics. It was ended by a small nod from Thorin, who then looked at Genra.

“I think I'll go and ask Balin about some problems in the lower mines. Please send for me if there is a need for my presence.”

“Yes milord.” Billa couldn't help but smile as Genra curtseyed again, and then the hobbit waved at Thorin one last time as he left the room.

“Well,” sighed Billa, looking at the female dwarf questioningly, now they were alone in the large room. “How does this usually … proceed?”

“Milady, right now I'm only able to determine if you're healthy, and if you're actually with child,” Genra said, smiling slightly, yet not looking at her queen directly. Billa couldn't decide if the dwarf was just shy or if the instructions about the proper manners in the vicinity of a royal family member were just that well ingrained in her mind.

“And I assume that we'll see each other rather often in the next months, won't we?” Billa asked, to which the dwarrodam nodded.

“If you're with child, then yes, milady.”

“Then why are you still calling me milady?” Billa retorted, and Genra blushed so strongly that Billa would have bet her crown that even Genra's ears became slightly pink.

“But milady–”

“None of that, Genra.” Billa skidded a little sidewards on the couch so she was closer to Genra, who was still standing next to it, and used the opportunity to grab her hand. “I was not born with royal blood in my veins, and I am still not very comfortable with having underlings. Let us be friends, and not queen and subject.”

It was one of the things that Thorin still hadn't understood about Billa, even after she'd explained how in the Shire there were no kings or fiefdoms and everyone was equal (or at least wasn't allowed to order other people around unless they were employed in their business). Henceforth, she'd tried to become friends with everyone of her “subjects” she'd closer contact with, like her chambermaid Odá and the footboy (well, footdwarf) Arwid, who both never called her milady anymore, and even confided in Billa about some secrets that were normally only known to the various attendants.

“However,” Billa added as she saw that Genra was just as uncomfortable about this idea as Odá and Arwid had been at first, letting go of the hand of the dwarf. “I know that you'd never call me by my given name, so I'm fine with 'Ma'am', if you want.”

Genra seemed to breathe easier now this was clarified. “Yes, mi-… ma'am,” she said, smiling somewhat broader, and for the first time looked at Billa directly. “You're certainly different from other dwarven royalty, ma'am.”

“This might be because I am no dwarf, dear Genra,” replied Billa cheerfully. “Now, didn't you want to examine me? We do nothing but talking, and I'm sure you have more to do than look after a sick little hobbit!”

This made Genra grin. “Females do seem to have the tendency to spend their whole time with nothing but talking,” she said, finally sitting down next to Billa on the couch. “But this is also our best quality, as we _do_ talk, contrary to the males.”

“Which is nothing new to me! The whole mess with the Arkenstone and the siege and probably half of the stuff my husband did before he married me – everything could have been solved by talking!” Billa had become slightly agitated, and only now she noticed that her stomach still wasn't that keen with her trashing around. She put her hand in front of her mouth in fear of actually puking and got a pitiful glance from the dwarven lass next to her.

“The queasiness is rather bad, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Billa squeezed out between gritted teeth, trying to forget the feeling of someone turning her belly upside down, and was surprised as Genra put a little flask in front of her.

“Breathe deeply, ma'am.”

Billa did so, and was caught unaware by the fresh, yet sharp smell that greeted her, combined with something that reminded her of he Shire in spring … woodruff maybe. The nausea didn't vanish instantly, but the urge to vomit was dampened and the sick feeling reduced to a dull ache.

“This should help you, but don't use it too often, “Genra said, shutting the flask with a cork and putting it on the table next to the couch. “I recommend you to eat small bits of cram or biscuits in the morning, right after waking and before getting out of bed, and during the day to never get really hungry; eat lots of fresh fruit and vegetables preferably.”

“I'd love to do that, but just the thought of food makes me nauseous, and I've hardly been eating in the last few days,” sighed Billa, holding her belly. A Hobbit not wanting to get second breakfast when it was available … she'd never even _heard_ of that.

At that, Genra frowned and seemed to think hard for a moment. “Then I'll get you something special that should help you, but now…” She looked at Billa expectantly. “I need you to undress so I can touch your skin without problems.”

“Oh … oh, of course.” Billa stood up, careful not to move too quickly, and unfastened the hooks in her back that held together her upper tunic. On normal days she wore rather simple robes, made out of very fine material but without much embroidery or ornaments, which meant that she didn't need any help with dressing and undressing herself. Under the very dwarfish tunic was a more or less simple hobbit shirt that could be fastened at the sides and a linen underskirt, but as Billa was about to remove those to, Genra stopped her.

“I just need to reach your stomach, nothing else, ma'am.”

So Billa sat down again, her tunic put on the armrest of the couch, and looked at the dwarf sitting next to her.

“Lean back,” said Genra gently, and then reached for Billa's abdomen. Her hands were warm and soft as she traced unseen lines across the hobbit's skin, while Billa watched curiously every move of the dwarf in front of her.

“If you have questions, ask them, mila– … ma'am.” Genra murmured, looking up for a second and smiling as she reached a bit more upwards to lay her left hand between Billa's breasts, then closing her eyes as if to concentrate. Billa breathed deeply, trying to find the right words while she also suppressed the feeling of embarrassment because, really, the only one who had touched her breasts like that in the last few years had been … Thorin.

“I … I just...” Billa swallowed as Genra finally moved her hand back to more innocent places, now palpating Billa's sides. “How can you do it, just by … touching?”

Genra merely shrugged. “It's my _katatûmûb_.”

“ _Kata_...” Billa frowned. “I don't know this word.”

The dwarf healer halted in her movements and stared at her patient. “Has no one ever explained you about _katatûmûb_?” Genra asked, and Billa shook her head, while Genra sat up a little and stopped touching Billa altogether.

“Well, we consider it a gift … a gift from our Maker,” she said slowly. “And when I think about it, it might be a secret that is only known to our kind.”

“Just like Khuzdul, which I am currently learning,” Billa replied, and Genra smiled.

“Indeed, ma'am. Though _katatûmûb_ …” Genra seemed to search for the right words, wringing her fingertips in the hem of her apron. “You could translate it as 'Thoroughly Touch', but it doesn't cover the exact meaning. It's a skill that only some dwarves are blessed with and learn to use in different ways.”

“A special, secret skill, well now you have to tell me more!” Billa's curiosity was fully awake, and she too sat up a little, her shirt falling over her bare stomach, the sight making Genra smile even wider.

“I will, ma'am, but I think it's a little difficult to explain. _Katatûmûb_ is … when we touch something.” Genra laid her hand on Billa's bare left arm. “We don't just feel the surface, but we can also tell what lies deeper. Most of the dwarves with _katatûmûb_ use it in the mines, as they can easily tell where the biggest and most beautiful stones hide inside the rock. Some use it for the building of caves and halls, as they know where the stone is the strongest just by laying their hands on a part of the mountain. And I...”

“You can use it on people?” Billa exclaimed, with wide open eyes. That was indeed a marvellous thing!

“Yes, ma'am.” Genra nodded, gently brushing along the hobbit's forearm. “For example, I can easily tell that you once broke your arm when you were still a young lass; a clean break and well set, I would say.” Genra took her hand back into her lap, while Billa still sat in front of her, flabbergasted by this new information. She needed a second before she realised that Genra waited for a confirmation.

“I … yes, yes, I fell from a tree, I was barely a tween back then!” Billa breathed, looking from Genra to her own arm and back. “This is magic!”

The dwarf laughed out loud. “Don't tell the Tree-Whisperers, ma'am, or they might actually think we're worth their time,” Genra said with a grin on her lips and an obvious wink. “But then it doesn't come as natural to us as they might talk to every little bug that lives under their precious trees; I needed a long time to learn to distinguish the different .. images my _katatûmûb_ gives me.”

“And tell me if I am with child.”

“This is right, ma'am, although...” Genra scratched her neck. “I might have to touch you again, I was only finished with checking for other illnesses that could give you such a stark nausea.”

“Well then, go on!” Billa once again leaned back, this time not as reluctant anymore to expose her bare skin to the dwarf. Genra placed her hands on the skin anew, but after a few moments switched to only using the tips of her fingers, moving them back and forth with closed eyes. Billa watched with growing interest and held her breath as Genra stopped and righted herself.

“Ma'am, it's still young and very small, but I can definitely feel the fluttering of a new life.” The dwarf smiled brightly, and suddenly found herself with an arm full of royal hobbit.

“Oh, this is wonderful, thank you Genra!” Billa could not contain the laughter and joy she felt. She was pregnant, she was going to be a mother!

“No need to thank me, ma'am,” Genra replied, patting the hobbit's back awkwardly, before Billa suddenly remembered the etiquette and retreated, but then first the hobbit, a little later Genra too dissolved into giggles. They both needed a while to catch themselves.

“So we will indeed see us rather often in the next months,” Billa noted, still grinning broadly.

“Yes, ma'am. I will have to check every fortnight if the babe is healthy, and then there's the issue of…” Suddenly, Genra got more serious. “Well, the duration of pregnancy.” 

“I think I read something about it.” Billa nodded, while she got her tunic and slid it back on. “Hobbits only carry for about eight months, and dwarves for … twelve?”

“Thirteen, actually,” Genra corrected, and stood up, collecting her bag while looking at Billa, who had remained sitting. “I expect something in-between, though I am going to watch the progress more closely from the eight month onward.” Genra made a move that was something between a curtsey and a bow. “But until then it is a long time, and I wish you nothing but well, ma'am.”

“Thank you, midwife Genra.” Billa nodded, officially dismissing the dwarf with a bow of her head, and Genra curtseyed one last time.

“See you in a fortnight, Lady Billa, and I will send a boy with the medicine for the nausea before sunset.” With this, Genra left the room, and Billa fell back onto the cushions of the couch as soon as the door snapped shut, grinning widely while stroking her stomach.

“Hello little one,” she murmured and closed her eyes. “I'm going on another adventure then.”


	3. Welcome Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha this is my Christmas gift to my readers hahaha I'm so bad at writing WIPs u_u

Genra held true to her words, as not even an hour after she'd left the royal wing Billa heard the knock of a messenger boy on her door, bringing her a small pouch of some tangy smelling herb. There were also some instructions written in the neat hand of a dwarf that was used to writing in Cirth, telling Billa to make a light tea with the herb and drinking it on a mostly empty stomach at least once a day, or more often if needed, which Billa took heed of and went to the small kitchen that was connected to their chambers.

Whenever Billa thought of the kitchen as “small”, she could hardly stop a giggle because the kitchen was actually larger than the one she'd had in Bag End, and fully equipped with everything she could wish for; there even was an icebox stocked with fresh meat, milk and fruit. But right now all she needed was the kettle, which was quickly filled with water from the pump and dragged into the sitting room, where a small fire was always burning in the fireplace. Tea making was such a calming activity that Billa only remembered why she was doing all of this when she had already settled down on her favourite armchair, holding a cup of the herbal tea and a book about Dwarven myths and legends waiting for her. Again a hand wandered to her stomach and she smiled.

“If only you wouldn't make me so queasy,” Billa murmured to herself and nipped at her tea before leaning back and opening the book. It was some light reading about the first centuries when Men were few and the Valar seemed to meddle far to often in the fates of the three races of Middle-earth. Ori had found many of such books in the library of Erebor; a true treasure for every scholar as this knowledge had thought to be lost when Smaug attacked. The scribe had done his best in repairing broken spines and fixing loose pages, so that after nearly a year of work the library was once again presentable and especially young dwarves used every opportunity to read about their ancestors. And because Billa was the Queen (and Ori could never deny a request from her), she often took her favourite books to her chambers, reading them whenever she was bored.

Not that she was very often bored. There were some duties as the Queen of Erebor that she had to endure, like sitting through meetings with the counsel or acting as host whenever there were important guests in the mountain, but today every appointment had been cancelled as she had been too sick to attend anything official. So it was a free evening, and... that gave her an idea.

Billa put her book aside and grinned. Oh, she was so very wicked today. But first: Some light food, as she actually felt hungry now. She strolled back into the kitchen, opened cupboard after cupboard and in the end decided to start her first meal in two days to be some rusk and jam, and one single cookie that was clearly far too scared to be left alone in the giant cookie jar. She brought a plate back to her seat, drank the last drops of the tea and then called for Arwid, who was apparently once again trying to get some order into Fíli's and Kíli's quarters.

“Ma'am?” he asked when he finally stood at the door to the sitting room, looking at Billa with a frown. Well, she already knew that news travelled as fast as lightening when it came to the servants and attendants working in Erebor.

“Do not worry, I'm fine,” she tried to calm him, but the worry on Arwid's face didn't fully vanish. “I just need you to fetch the King and tell him that I want to see him. But make it clear that it's nothing dire, only my wish to spend the evening with him.”

“Yes Ma'am,” Arwid said and bowed, leaving quickly and quietly. Billa returned to her armchair and book, nibbled on the cram and still couldn't stop grinning. Her plan could continue.

~*~

However, when Thorin finally entered their parlour, it was already early evening, and the plate with the cram was now empty save some tiny crumbs and the tiny jar with raspberry jam almost looked like it had been licked clean.

Still standing halfway in the door, Thorin looked around, confused about where Billa was. Didn't Arwid say that she wanted to speak to him? But then the lass got bored quickly sometimes, so she might be with Bofur, or in the library to speak with Ori about new books they needed...

“Thorin!”

The voice came from the door to their shared bedroom, and only now did Thorin realise that it was ajar and there was a soft glow coming from the room behind it. He walked towards it, pushing it open carefully, and then could barely contain the gasp that wanted to escape his mouth.

The heavy window shutters had been closed, so that he was greeted only by the soft light of many burning candles, and the the curtains of the bed in the middle of the room had been drawn aside to allow the direct view on the furs and blankets that was the upper layer of their bedding, but on those...

Billa was so very beautiful. Her hair was loose, the only ornament remaining in it their wedding braid, and she wore nothing but a sinfully short nightshirt made of silk and lace that covered her body like a shimmering second skin.

“Greetings, my husband,” Billa said, smiling mischievously and sitting up a little to reach out her hand. “Join me?”

“I … I–” Thorin had lost his words, and he gulped to get his tongue and brain working again. “Did you wait for me like this the whole time?”

Billa laughed. “Yes and no.” She pointed at a book lying on the night table beside her. “I hoped you would return earlier, though.”

“If I had known that you would welcome me like that…” Thorin replied grinning, already halfway out of his tunic before he remembered what had happened earlier in the day, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed.

“So you aren't pregnant then?” he asked, the excitement about seeing his wife waiting for him in this fashion crushed by the fear that everything had been in vain, but then Billa smiled, warm and happy.

“I _am_ pregnant, Thorin,” she said, crawling closer to the dwarf and sliding the tunic off him with gentle hands, but Thorin caught her hand before she could do much.

“Truly?” He had turned so he could look into Billa's face, trying to determine if she was tricking him, but all he could see was true happiness and lust, and love.

“Truly, _azyungâluh_.” Billa leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her husband's lips, then whispered against the tender skin. “This is to celebrate the new life we created.”

“Oh, Billa,” Thorin rasped and grabbed the hobbit around the middle, pulling her on his lap. His large hands were caressing her thighs, then slowly creeping upwards, sliding under her nightshirt and gently cupping her breasts.

“Finally,” Billa laughed, putting her arms around Thorins neck and littering his face with kisses. “And do not worry, the child will not be hurt as long as you're … careful.” Billa gave a wink, and Thorin grinned back.

“And who says that I want to be careful?” he said, and in one smooth motion removed his hands from Billa's breast, going back to holding onto her thighs, but then stood up and lifted the hobbit in the process.

“Thorin!” Billa yelped, holding tight to the dwarf's shoulders and neck, but did not stop laughing. “Put me down!”

“What if I do not want to put you down, my wondrous hobbit?” In this position, Thorin had to look up a little to truly see Billa's face and not only her cleavage, although Billa thought that Thorin enjoyed staring at both very much.

“Well, I doubt that we could … make love like this, don't you think?” Billa said, leaning her forehead against Thorin's.

“Oh, my sweet Billa,” he replied, slowly swaying from side to side and smiling broadly up at his wife. “You can't imagine in what positions lovemaking is possible.” And then he kissed her, gently and deeply, slipping his tongue inside her mouth; Billa moaned and resisted the urge to rub herself against him.

“Was that a proposition?” she murmured against Thorin's lips, at which the dwarf did something she had only heard once before in her life: He purred.

“Very much so, _kurdûh_ ,” he murmured back, and suddenly shifted; Billa hadn't noticed that they had somehow moved to the foot of the bed. Now Thorin was kneeling on top of the mattress, leaning forwards a little, and Billa took the hint to let go of the dwarf's neck and fell on top of the bedding. She smiled at Thorin, whose grin made him look rather predatory.

“Yet today I think of a different kind of … adventure,” Thorin said, kissing her softly on the lips once more and then sliding downwards between Billa's legs; the Hobbit involuntarily blushed.

“Oh.” Billa still wasn't used to this. She hadn't exactly been a virgin the first time she lay with Thorin, but hobbits weren't that … creative when it came to sex. It was Thorin who had introduced her to the pleasures that a clever tongue could give, and that his teeth and lips were not only good at nibbling the skin of her neck, but other skin, too. In return, Billa had worked up enough courage during the months of their marriage to now simply sink down in front of Thorin when the mood struck her, and had enough expertise to bring him to his peak quickly enough that by now there probably wasn't a single room in the halls of Erebor where they hadn't had sex yet.

Billa sighed, and brought herself to concentrate on Thorin's actions. He was rather enthusiastically lapping her folds, nibbling here and there, and had added a single finger to brush at her from the inside, too. Even after almost a year as king, Thorin still had the rough hands of a smith and warrior, but that was more of an advantage as it was far more intense then when Billa used one of her own smooth fingers. Thorin's other hand was carefully massaging her buttocks and thighs, and all of it felt so amazing that it didn't even need five minutes for Billa to squirm and shake under Thorin's careful touches. 

But then something shifted, and she couldn't stop a quiet laugh bubbling up her throat. Thorin raised his head, looking at his wife questioningly.

“What is it?”

Billa giggled even more. “Your beard,” she said, putting a hand in front of her mouth to hide the grin. “It tickles.”

“Oh!” Thorin used his free hand to brush over his moustache and beard, licking his lips unconsciously. He had let it grow since the battle to reclaim Erebor, yet he kept the hair on his cheeks almost as short as in the years before; only the beard on his chin was meanwhile long enough to be plaited into three majestic braids, all of them decorated with a golden bead.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No!” Billa exclaimed, still grinning. “Just don't move your chin so much, or maybe remove those beads?”

Well, that was a deed quickly done. Thorin pulled off the small ornaments and shoved them into his trouser pockets, while Billa used the moment to slide a little more towards the headboard.

“You're still wearing far too many clothes, my dear husband,” Billa hummed, looking longingly at Thorin, who didn't need another encouragement to shed the last bits of clothing. His trousers and smallclothes landed with a heavy thud on the floor, and his shirt flew into a dark corner of the room.

And then Thorin was suddenly lying half on top of Billa, kissing her thoroughly while his hands went exploring her body; caressing her breasts and then her thighs and then slipping between Billa's legs again. She moaned into Thorin's mouth, grating against his hand, and reached her peak with a surprised squeak, quickly dissolving into giggles afterwards.

“My Billa,” Thorin murmured, gazing at her with a dark fire in his eyes. “I love it when you laugh like that.”

“Oh, only then?” Billa teased, looking at her husband's face while one of her hands started gently stroking over Thorin's erection that was poking into her hip.

“No, I always love you,” he sighed, the touch making him shiver and close his eyes, and his breathing against Billa's neck quickened.

For a moment, he seemed to simply enjoy being the centre of Billa's attention, and she adjusted her grip so she could bring him to completion like this, but then there was Thorin's rumbling voice in her ear.

“Please, not like that, I want to be inside you.”

Billa smiled, letting go of Thorin's member, put a small kiss on the dwarf's lips and jiggled her hips. Thorin took it as the invitation that it was, pushing himself up on his hands and then easily slid between Billa's legs and into her, groaning inaudibly when he was fully inside.

“I love you,” he repeated, and Billa raised her hands to brush through Thorin's hair, loosening the hair clasp on the back of his head so his locks fell forward, creating a thin veil around both of their faces. Thorin smiled, and Billa smiled back, waggling her hips again.

“I love you too, but do not _tease_ me,” she whispered, pulling down Thorin so she could kiss him, and he finally started moving, rocking forwards and backwards slowly. Billa closed her eyes in bliss and, wrapping her legs around Thorin's backside, pulled him even closer to her, making him moan into her mouth.

“You want this to be over so quickly?” he panted, angling his thrusts a little more upward, which rewarded him with a quiet groan from Billa. Thorin grinned wickedly, repeating the move, feeling his own release drawing closer.

“May I remind you that ... you already pleasured me?” Billa was biting her lip, lost in her husband's eagerness, but her words made Thorin suddenly stop, leaning close over her face and whispering against her lips.

“Yes, but tonight I want to truly worship you.”

And then he flipped them over, so Billa was now lying on top of Thorin, their legs entangled in the bedsheets but Thorin quickly kicked them off, while Billa sat up slightly, rolling her hips.

“Don't,” Thorin growled, gripping Billa's buttocks and back to pull her down, pushing into her once more. She squeaked, then moaned, and when Thorin's hand again wandered between her thighs, rubbing against her heated flesh, she sighed, rocking her hips helplessly to increase the friction.

“Do you really want to … break our record?” Billa panted, propping herself up on her hands, looking at her husband, whose hair was as dark as tar against the pillows. Once Thorin made her reach her peak ten times during their lovemaking, and Thorin seemed always eager to top that count, as he just loved her face when she came.

“Maybe,” he replied, bucking upwards while simultaneously _flexing_ something, and Billa cried out.

“Three.”

“You're impossible, dwarf.” Billa giggled playfully, moving herself along to Thorin's rocking hips, making him gasp.

“And you're simply … wonderful, halfling.” Thorin grinned back, taking one of Billa's breasts into his warm hands, massaging it gently and pulling her down a little so he could take the nipple into his mouth, suckling on it like a babe would.

“Oh, stop that!” Billa exclaimed, squirming free of Thorin's lips, but he did not let her go, tugging her only closer to his chest and quickly thrusting into her so another drawn-out moan came from her lips.

“Four.”

“I surrender,” she whimpered, her lips pressed against his neck. “Please, Thorin, I can't...”

Thorin only groaned, speeding up one last time, grasping Billa so close that their skin seemed to merge together, and then spilled inside her with an almost surprised-sounding gasp.

After that, Billa did not move, but simply breathed in Thorin's scent and listened to his panting and racing heartbeat.

“No new record,” she mumbled, yawning.

“Not for the lack of trying,” Thorin answered, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. Billa used the moment to slide down from her husband, joining him in his laugh, and cuddled close to him, Thorin's arm securely around her. She gazed up at him, saw how some of his hair was sticking to his forehead because of all the sweat, yet he was still grinning, and returned the look.

“Thank you.”

“Should not _I_ thank _you_?” Billa asked back. “You're not the one who just came four times!”

“That's not what I meant, _azyungâluh_ ,” he murmured, rubbing over Billa's stomach and smiling at her. “You're giving me a family.”

At this, Billa suddenly guffawed. “Oh, my insufferable dwarf, that sounds so … soppy!” she exclaimed, poking into Thorins side and grinning at him. “I'm pretty sure you'll hate me as soon as I get cravings in the middle of the night, or … I do not know, force you to massage my feet!”

“I'll massage your feet every hour of the day if you demand it from me,” Thorin said, still smiling, and poking Billa back, which quickly developed into a more playful thing; the hobbit chuckled.

“No, no tickling, please...!”

But Thorin was relentless, tickling his hobbit until she was squirming with laughter, completely out of breath, and pleading him to stop with tears of joy in her eyes. This was Thorin's cue to stop, and he planted a quick kiss to Billa's lips before he got up from the bed.

“What are you doing, my love?” Billa asked, stretching out on the bed, and watched Thorin, who was apparently trying to find his smallclothes.

“The evening is still young, milady,” the dwarf said, wiggling his naked hips a little, which earned him a pillow thrown at his back.

“Insufferable Dwarf, indeed!” Billa laughed, and Thorin laughed with her, putting on his trousers in a fluid motion. When he had put on his tunic too, he looked back at the hobbit, who by now was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her belly.

“Oh Thorin,” she sighed. “I wish I could just … shout my joy at the world.”

Thorin joined Billa in the sigh. They really tried to ignore the possibility, but so much could still happen, and it was unwise to make their subjects worry, so they had to keep quiet, at least until Billa was actually showing. On the other hand, there was at least one person who should know right now…

“We could tell Dís,” Thorin said gently, sitting down again next to Billa. “And maybe the boys too. And in a few weeks, we could let the rest of the Company know…” Thorin snorted, realising what would most likely happen. “If Fíli and Kíli haven't burst of pride until then.”

“Yes,” Billa said slowly, looking up at her husband. She held out a hand, interlacing her fingers with Thorin's, and smiled. “I'm sure they will be overjoyed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ~~sorry~~ not sorry for the smut. It had to happen.
> 
> Can I go back to eating gingerbread?

**Author's Note:**

> I still haven't found a native-speaker beta, if you want to know, so all mistakes are mine and mine only.
> 
> Also: Look at this awesome art drawn by Sparkle, [here](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/tagged/dwobbits-of-Erebor) and [here](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/tagged/dwobbits-in-erebor). This is basically what you can expect of this story, nothing more, nothing less u_u


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